The Storyteller: Was my run of good luck down to pixie gifts?

Happy Halloween! Hope you have a suitably spooky day if you are reading this on the day of publication!

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been sharing with you details of my planned Ghost Walk around Ashburton tonight with local writer of murder mystery novels, Stephanie Austin...so you know exactly where we will be from 7 pm this evening, starting out from The Old Exeter Inn...hopefully, some of you will be joining us for a suitably spooky and murderous time...

For this week’s article, I want to share with you an adventure I had with a young family who were eager to visit the Pixie Cave on Sheepstor...

During the summer, Debbie and Karl joined me on a couple of my Ghost Walks and were keen to visit other places on Dartmoor with me. When I talked about my experiences with the Pixie Cave, they asked if I would take them there, and Debbie was keen for her children to come too...

When I started visiting the moors after reading up about it, the Pixie Cave on Sheepstor was one of the first places I was desperate to see. I knew that it was possible to enter and big enough to stand up in. I’d read all the pixie stories and knew that if you left offerings for them like coins or thread and pieces of material for them to make new clothes from, good luck would come your way.

At the first possible opportunity, armed with our offerings, I took my then partner and her daughter to Sheepstor. Parking below the mighty tor, we proceeded to scout around for it but, although it’s marked on the map, the entrance proved difficult to find. In the end, we had to give up our search, but we didn’t want to not leave our offerings so we chose a little outcrop of rocks that looked like it might be home to some pixies and left them there...

Within that following week, when I was just starting to work in the box office at the old Festival Theatre, I had a customer try to use a fraudulent credit card. In those days we had to ring their bank and at the bank’s instruction cut the card up in front of the customer, informing them that the transaction had been declined, then return the cut-up card to the bank...for that I got a £50 reward!

On the Friday of that same week, we had the charity Midnight Matinee where all the acts taking part in the various Summer Seasons in Torbay came together to do a one-off show. There was a raffle that night, and I won Sunday lunch for two at the Imperial Hotel. Was this run of good luck all because I’d left our offerings for the pixies?

In the end, I had to be shown how to find the cave, and once you know it’s obvious really. So now I can lead people straight to it and have done so many times over the years since. To get inside you have to slide on your back through a very small opening before you can pull yourself upright and quite comfortably stand with room for 2 or 3 other people to join you.

There is another chamber beyond but not so high, so I’ve never ventured inside that far. On my first visit, there was a ceramic pixie figurine standing in a little niche, waiting to greet me. Sadly it was no longer there the next time I visited, but there has always been a Letterbox/Geocache so you can leave your mark, plus a whole variety of offerings from other visitors.

On a couple of recent occasions, I’ve been inside on a Sunday afternoon when my mobile pinged informing me I’ve won a Lotto Lucky Dip! Are the pixies still thanking me for leaving more offerings?

However, there was one time when we visited armed with our offerings that the weather was really bad, with the tor shrouded in mist. So we went to visit the remains of Longstone Manor on the edge of Burrator Reservoir instead. When we returned to the car, it refused to start, requiring a visit from The AA. Was this the pixie’s way of punishing us for not leaving the offerings? You have to be very careful how you treat them.

My recent visit with Debbie and Karl started out with us popping in the visitors center in Princetown for me to drop off some posters and to show the kids a little about the history of the moorland they were about to visit. They were particularly taken by the ranger’s jeep that they could climb inside, claiming they were going to drive all the way to Canada...meanwhile, Debbie fancied herself as a Whist Hound, donning a mask in an attempt to frighten Karl...the fun had begun!

Leaving Princetown, having met the other family joining us that afternoon, we headed towards Burrator Reservoir, complete with an ice cream van at the dam, crossing it to get to Sheepstor village where we just about managed to all park on the road at the foot of the climb to the tor.

Each time I go there, I seem to use a different route to get to the cave. This time we had to pick our way through waist-high bracken, over hidden rocks, trying to stick to a path of sorts. Eventually, we made it, having found the point between the holly and the oak tree where the next stage begins.

Spying the squarish outcrop amongst the rocks above, which was our target, I led the scramble upwards until we all stood over the little gully that hid the entrance. Going in first, I slid in on my back as per usual, until I was able to stand upright inside. Putting on my phone torch, I scanned around me, spotting the Geocache box and all the various offerings, all looking like they’d been left by children. Sadly no ceramic pixie.

Karl came in next, followed by the children who continuously popped in and out with their various offerings, making it look so easy. I think Debbie came in for a quick look whilst her friends stayed outside. Then poor Karl made a confession—he had a damaged shoulder which might hamper his efforts to get back out. After making the decision to take his boots off (don’t ask!), he managed to get out again, and I followed suit.

Back in daylight, we clambered down, and I was able to show everyone a much easier route back to the cars, avoiding all the bracken. Hopefully, I will remember that way for next time.

Having just told everyone the story of the cavalier who hid out in the cave after the Civil War, for fear of being captured and executed by patrolling roundheads, whilst the locals kept him fed, watered, and safe until he could return home, I thought it only appropriate to show them the remains of Longstone Manor, the house where he lived. Sadly, most of the ruins are now lost under the water of the reservoir.

Afterwards, it was time to eat, which we did with a hearty Sunday Lunch at the Royal Oak in Meavy, a pub I know well from the days when my good friend Mark and I used to celebrate the anniversary of the Leat Feast, a trout supper held to honor Drake for bringing fresh water along his leat to the good people of Plymouth.

We would walk the remains of Drake’s Leat dressed as Drake and The Devil, then whilst people feasted in the pub, we would regale them with tales of our various adventures...but that’s a story for another time...

If you fancy your own visit to a part of Dartmoor you’ve never been to before, just get in touch via my email address:
davidtiptrips@gmail.com

Let’s see what I can arrange for you.